


Well, then.

by Solstarin



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-08
Updated: 2017-02-08
Packaged: 2018-09-23 00:09:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9630884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Solstarin/pseuds/Solstarin
Summary: Haldir didn't die in the books, dammit. This is just setting it all straight.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> magic name-replacer here :)   
> http://nerddface.tumblr.com/post/155496213903/well-then-12

She remembered the ominous warning from that strange woman on the subway like it was yesterday. Since she’d been here, she thought it may be more like a couple months, but for all she knew, this could all be an elaborate fever dream, and it had really only been a couple hours. **  
**

_“You will need to make a choice.”_

Well, then. Was this the choice? It sure seemed important enough.  


_Well... At least it’s an easy one._

With Haldir’s life within seconds of ending, she made her decision. Breaking into the strongest run of her life, she barreled into the wounded elf, effectively knocking the wind from him, but causing the massive axe of the Uruk-hai behind him to strike nothing but wet stone. Before she could even be flustered that she had made such intense bodily contact with her (massive) crush, she leapt up and turned to shield his body with hers. 

The blades at her sides sang as they met the air, and she blinked in the torrential rain,   


“You will not take him.” Her head shook slowly as she said it, voice calm, but steady, determined, vicious. 

The creature snarled and spit at her, but she held her ground. She swung the weapons, letting the light catch them, set on protecting the elf on the ground behind her with her dying breath. Hearing his cough and the shifting of his armor as he struggled up to his elbows allowed her the relief to take a step forward and face the creature. It lunged at her, but its weight proved to be its weakness, and she got past its swinging axe. She wasn’t quite quick enough to find a chink in its armor before it turned around and hacked at her again. Her foot slipped on the wet stone, and her breath was momentarily ripped from her chest.  


“Y/N!” It was Aragorn. She sneered with effort as she rolled out of the way and back to her feet, and feinted again when it swung its weapon in a wide arc, this time catching its mistake- and its neck- with her blades. She stepped back to let it fall to the ground, dead. She almost lashed out when she felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to see Haldir, waterlogged and clutching the wound on his chest, but alive. His eyes begged a hundred silent questions, lips parted but silent. She grit her teeth, still trying to catch her breath.

“I could not let you die,” she admitted over the sound of battle. 

Aragorn called her name again and she turned, watching him make his way to the keep, waving an arm to her. 

“Come,” she beckoned, and slung one of Haldir’s arms over her shoulders, sheathing one sword. He did little to protest, and held his other hand over the wound on his sternum. She tried to move them quickly, hoping the shake with each swing of her weapon didn't jar him too much. 

One ill-timed strike let a blade through her defense and thankfully she turned just soon enough to catch the metal with her own shoulder instead of the side of Haldir’s neck. The elf’s dagger flashed out to kill the assailant, and Y/N grit her teeth, grunted, and carried on. 

They only paused for a moment at the gate when the Marchwarden slung over her side lost his knees and fell forward. Y/N’s shoulder popped as she supported his weight, and she swallowed a cry of pain as her wound tore a little further with the stress.

In a moment, Aragorn was at her side, hauling the elf to stand, and he met Y/N’s eyes for a moment.

“Got him,” she beamed. 

~

Y/N and Aragorn ushered the elf to a chair near the back, snatching a tablecloth up on the way there, where he promptly began to protest. **  
**

“We must defend the keep!”

Without looking at him, she searched for the straps on his pauldron. Aragorn vanished in the crowd behind them.“You're injured. Stay down. You can't help anyone if you're dead. This war isn't over yet.”

“It’s nothing; I cannot leave my men!” Haldir exclaimed, shifting out of her grip.

“Stay down,” she commanded, pressing a palm to his chest to halt him. “I promise you, we will win. If you go back out there, I cannot promise that you will survive. Trust me. Please.”

She seemed so phenomenally genuine that he stopped, aphonic. Aragorn and Théoden argued behind her as the men barricaded the pounding door, but she paid no attention. She knelt before Haldir, and her fingers worked quickly to loose the armor around his chest and pull it over his head, draping his sopping coat over another chair. She brushed his drenched hair over his opposite shoulder with incredible care, pulling a lock plastered to the side of his face free slowly. She caught his gaze for a split second before coming to her senses and focusing intensely on his chest. 

There was shouting, now, and as she was tearing the cloth to bind Haldir’s wound, Aragorn came up behind her. Haldir looked up at him, which she noticed, and turned her head briefly to face her friend. She pulled Haldir’s shoulder forward slightly to make him sit up, and reached under his arms with the cloth. 

“We ride out with Théoden. Will you be safe here?”

Y/N responded quickly, wrapping the cloth again and tugging it tight, trying to ignore the intense pain in her shoulder. “No. But I will make it safe.” 

The dύnedâin nodded to the both of them and rushed off. 

Haldir’s soft voice made her pause for a moment. “You are bleeding.”

Y/N blinked, hoping the way her head spun was from nerves and not blood loss, pulled the makeshift bandage one more time around Haldir’s broad chest and tore it further, tying it off. “I’ll be fine.” She looked back as the crashing of the gates stole her attention. The horn of the keep blasted.

“Forth Eorlingas!” Théoden shouted, and the group charged, ratting Y/N’s knees. Clashing armor flashed in the bright light of the beginning day, and she breathed in relief. Tears blurred her vision, of both happiness and pain, and she hoped that the sweat and rain on her face would disguise them.

“The Rohirrim.” 

Sure enough, not a moment later, from outside came a thundering that could only be the thousands of horsemen coming over the hill. They had won.

~

Soon after, the Elves came to sweep up Haldir. She let them have him without a word, silently fading into the crowd of joyous women rushing out to embrace the battle-weary men. It was time she got her wound tended to, and she had to find the rest of the Fellowship.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> PARTY TIME!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> magic---> http://nerddface.tumblr.com/post/155818996893/well-then-22

They returned to Edoras within the week, and the Golden Hall was packed with the survivors of Hornburg, to honor the dead and celebrate their victory. It was eerily silent for the number of men around Y/N, and she was painfully aware of the somber mood that blanketed the room. Éowyn approached the parapet and offered her uncle a goblet, which he accepted, and she retired behind him.  


“Tonight we remember those who gave their blood to defend this country.” Théoden announced. He offered up the goblet in a toast.

“Hail the victorious dead.”  


The entire hall responded with a roaring “hail!” She drank in thanks that there were not more dead than there could have been.  


The mood lingered a little longer, but it was shattered suddenly by a bold, hearty laugh. Light bled into the air, soaked into the skin of the hall’s patrons, and in moments, a subtle chatter escalated into a full-blown party. The band in the corner picked up, and words and wine flowed freely.  


Y/N was content to keep to a corner for the moment, nurse her tankard, and watch the merriment. The elves had joined them, besides, and she was keeping a sharp eye out for one in particular.  


She wasn’t sure if she was doing so in hopes of speaking to him, or avoiding him. Maybe it was the thrill of new feelings, but the thought of carrying on a conversation with him that was open to any topic unsettled her. Someone slammed the table a couple seats down from her and laughed, and she downed the last of her liquid courage, hoping that if he was here, it would kick in soon enough to be of use.  


There was a commotion close by, and Gimli’s signature chuckle caught her attention. She stood, leaving her empty cask behind, and snaked through the laughing Rohirrim to see the red-headed dwarf downing a tankard in one steady go. Beside him, Legolas searched his own drink before tipping it back. Both were handed new tankards as soon as the last hit the table, and Y/N assumed they had begun some sort of drinking match.

She accepted a fresh goblet from a nameless face, already bright with drink and song, and offered a smile as thanks, and settled in to watch.  


Within ten minutes it was apparent that someone was perhaps a little more competitive than he had let on. Gimli had more than a dozen tankards piled on the table before him, while Legolas was smoothly finishing his eighth. The dwarf was getting progressively more drunk, and he was beginning to trip over his critiques and absentminded remarks.  


Another minute and he was looking far more worse for the wear, and the next pint he slammed down nearly missed the table entirely. He laughed, and swayed.  


“Here, here.” Éomer, the tall horseman whom the Fellowship had stumbled upon a couple weeks prior, handed the dwarf another drink, his honey-spun hair falling over his eyes.  


“Raaar,” the ginger drawled. “It’s the dwarves that go swimming with little, hairy women!” he descended into cackles.  


“I feel something,” Legolas announced. “A slight tingle in my fingers.” He examined them, looking quite concerned. “I think it’s affecting me.”

“What did I say?” Gimli managed between laughs, his words barely comprehensible at this point, ale dribbling in his thick beard. “He can’t hold his liquor.”  


A grin split Y/N’s lips and a laugh bubbled in her chest as his eyes went crossed, and he keeled over the back of his stool. Legolas paused, set his own tankard down, and looked to Éomer.

“Game over.”

She set her goblet down, and knelt to help Gimli upright again. He mumbled something incoherent, and she chuckled, sitting him in a chair and instructing Legolas to have someone keep an eye on him.  


As she turned to retrieve her drink, a flash of white-blond hair caught her eye, and she looked to see Haldir, dressed now in his Marchwarden forestwear, an amicable smile on his lips. Her heart skipped a beat.  


“My lady,” he greeted formally, bowing slightly. She caught a glimpse of white bandage in the gap at his collar.  


“Good sir.” she inclined her head and extended her hand from her chest in a collected gesture, though her heart pounded.

She watched his eyes follow something behind her, a slight flush coloring his moon-pale cheeks. Something a little more nervous of a grin spread across his mouth, and his gaze flicked to the floor before meeting hers again.  


“I trust you are well,” he said, obviously trying to create some sort of conversation.  


“Even better, now you’re here,” she returned, surprising herself, and taking absolute delight in the way he flushed and tripped over a response.  


“I-- that is indeed why I came to speak with you.” He stepped slightly closer. “Would you mind taking a walk with me?”

Grinning, she accepted brightly, taking the arm he offered her. The sleeve of his garb was much thinner and more lenient than metal armor, and she could feel his heavy muscle tense as she fell into step beside him, allowing him to lead her through the crowd and out the large, partially ajar keep doors. He didn’t limp, but his posture was less rigid than she remembered. The chill of the outdoor air shocked Y/N’s skin for a moment and almost thoughtlessly she pressed a little closer to Haldir’s side.

“Will you be cold?” He sounded genuinely concerned, and Y/N shrugged.  


“Eventually. Stupid I didn't bring a coat, but it’s all good. Nothing I can’t handle.”  


Haldir paused, pulled his arm from her, and unclasped the throat of his cloak, decisively setting it on her shoulders and doing the clasp up.  


“This material is light, but it keeps incredibly warm.”  


“Thank you,” she said, catching his gaze as his fingers lingered around her collar. He broke the contact, blinking and turning his head. He cleared his throat and turned, offering his elbow again. Y/N took it once more, looking up at his face for a moment before turning her eyes to the stars.

They walked for a short time, up to a terrace with a wide view of the plains of Edoras. Y/N sighed deeply as they approached a tower wall, releasing Haldir to slide her hands across the cold stone. A breeze pressed the cloak to her shoulders, made goosebumps flash across her forearms, and brushed her hair over her shoulders. The air was clean and sharp, and it drew some of the alcoholic buzz from her head. A soft smile turned up one end of her mouth.  


“Where are you from?”

It seemed like a sudden and strange question. She turned her head to him, quirking one eyebrow and frowning.  


“You seem at ease out here.”

Y/N heaved a deep sigh, looking back out at the world beyond them. “Something like this; broadlands, open skies. Mountains in the distance.”

The elf beside her leaned against the stone, and she turned her head to him.  


“What about yourself?”

“I am a marchwarden of Lorien,” he said honestly. “I have lived there all my life. Though I am a liaison of sorts, we rarely venture beyond the forest’s borders. This openness has always been rather strange to me.”  


“Life takes you to interesting places,” Y/N mused. “As does war. I am sorry you have had to be involved.”

“We live in this world same as any other,” Haldir responded. “It is our duty to defend it as all of us do.” 

There was a beat before he spoke up next. “Speaking of war, why did you save me, at Hornburg?”

“Ahh...” _Shit_. “That... is not so simple. I could not see a good man die.” 

Haldir stepped closer. “There are countless good men who died that day,” he said quietly, his voice dropped an octave. “There is more to it than that.”  


She turned her head again and found him nearer than she thought. “I could say the same of you.” 

“I am... not sure precisely what I am experiencing.” Haldir admitted quietly, but didn’t protest when her hand came to rest atop his. 

“That’s alright,” she murmured. “I’m open to experimentation.” 

His grey eyes flickered from her hand to her face and back. “I suppose I would be as well.” His face drew slightly closer, and Y/N’s heart kicked into an impossibly faster rhythm. “Once you answer my question.” 

_So he had some spark_. A smile stole her lips as she moved ever closer, so she couldn’t truly focus on his face, but it didn’t matter, really, because her eyes were slipping closed by the second. She could feel them brushing his cheekbones, and the sensation on her mouth of his shallow breath was almost enough to steal hers.  


“I will.”

Y/N had kissed before, but this one sent her head right into the clouds.  


His free hand came to rest on her hip, and her fingers trailed thoughtlessly up his chest, on a forgotten path to his shoulder. His head tipped ever so slightly to the side, and his grip tightened, and she knew he heard her answer.  


It wasn’t extravagant, or delving, or charged with the passion it might have had if she’d kissed him after she’d saved his life. It was a simple gesture, shared on a balcony outside a celebration of their victory, witnessed only by the stars and the moon. She’d never really believed in true love’s kiss before, but this was something to make a Disney princess jealous.  


She had made a choice, and she would continue to make the same one for the rest of her life. No matter what may come for the rest of this war, or beyond, she would keep him safe.  


And it was still the easiest choice she ever made.  



	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nobody made it out of the War of the Ring without PTSD, tbh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> magic--->http://nerddface.tumblr.com/post/156235655683/aftermath
> 
> Full Quenya translations are at the end. I know it’s probably more canon that Haldir would speak the Noldorian dialect of Elvish (that’s what it always is in my brain), but I SCOURED and couldn’t find full translations for everything I wanted to use (either a product of the dialect not really including the full phrases/ideas or it’s not developed enough yet), but I didn’t want anything to be incomplete so I substituted with Quenya. Forgive me if any of you are nerdier than I am linguistically speaking and find errors in my structure. I think I got everything right, but I did have to kinda staple together a couple qualifiers/suffixes to create something that would get my point across in the way I wanted.
> 
> Anyway, I’ll shut up about languages and let you read some cliche plot devices :)

It was over. The bloodshed had ended. Frodo had destroyed the Ring, and The One was defeated.

The ground was steady again, after tearing open to swallow Sauron’s armies, but Y/N was still shaking. Black blood dripped from her blades, sweat seeped from her skin, and her breath tore from her chest. 

Despite the circumstances, all she could think was _god; the gym was never this intense_. She’d better be swol coming out of this.

Her head was pounding, making her vision pulsate. She felt the urge to look down, and saw a massive blotch of deep maroon, and her heart stopped again. She was wounded, mortally, she knew it, and she needed help soon, or she’d bleed out. She couldn’t die now, not after-- after--

She couldn’t make out any of the faces around her, and everything was just a blur of metallic flashes, dirty faces, and wet hair. Her mind descended into a mess of jumbled thoughts, hazy and unfocused like the rest of her senses. She opened her mouth to yell for help, but nothing happened.  Surely someone would notice, besides, but even as she stumbled forward to one of the blurry figures, it continued its path as if nothing was wrong. 

Her ears were ringing incessantly above the thundering of her blood in her ears, both stacked on top of the fuzzy noise from the survivors. _Could no one see her?!_

Suddenly there was something close to her face, and her chin tingled where something touched it. She blinked, but her vision wouldn’t focus. She opened her mouth, but couldn’t say anything. There was a muffled voice saying something to her, and the tingles spread across her cheeks, and descended to brace her neck. 

She bolted upright, heaving lungfuls of crisp air. The soft sheets around her were stained dark with blood, sticky, and when she lifted her hands, they dripped with it. She blinked-- it was gone. Her palms glittered with sweat, but there was no gaping wound in her stomach, and Haldir was sitting up beside her, his hands hovering. 

She didn’t have to say anything for him to understand, and he shifted forward, opening his arms for her. 

She collapsed into them, and they encircled her tightly, blazing warm, and through the dissipating haze of dirt and blood and sweat, the eucalyptus-reminiscent scent of the tall trees of Lorien filled her head. 

“Haldir,” she murmured, feeling him hold her impossibly tighter, and lifted her weary arms to return the gesture. The tsunami wave of relief that crashed over her made her tremble. He pulled her into his lap, tucking her head under his chin.

“ _Mírima melda_ ,” he soothed. “ _Á tulë sinomë, á tulë sinomë, varnatyë. Nányë sinomë, melda heri, áva sorya, lertamunta nahtatyë. Melinyel, ilmanya.Telyanás. Telyanás_.” (Precious darling. Come here, come here, you’re safe. I’m here, beloved lady, nothing can hurt you. I love you, my starlight. It’s over. It’s over.) 

Y/N had no idea what he was saying, but his voice was calming anyway. He smoothed her hair and reminded her that the War was finished a year past, they had been married a little more than half as long, and her small bakery was doing well. 

She sat in silence to listen, and they remained like that for what felt like hours, as her heart and breath returned to a normal, steady rhythm. 

When she felt steadied again, she drew a deep breath, and lifted her head off her husband’s chest. 

“Are you well, now?”

She nodded as he pressed a long kiss to her temple. Haldir drew a breath as she readjusted his lap, and watched the light of the late moon bathe her skin and hair in silver. 

“I assume you do not intend to sleep?”

“No. 

“That is good, for I wished to kiss you, and it’s quite difficult to do so properly when you are asleep.” 

This brought a smile to her face, and her chest lightened. She threw her arms around his neck, knocking him back, and drawing a rare and beautiful laugh from him.

He wrapped his arms around her again, and rolled her over, his hair and lashes tickling her neck. 

“You swore to protect me,” he said. “It is my turn. I swear that no harm will come to you for as long as I live.”

And she knew he meant it. Shell-shock could bring as many nightmares as it dared, but Haldir would always be there to break her free and ground her to the reality that they had built together.

 **Translations** ( _see top notes for more detai_ **l** ):  


_Mírima_ (very precious)

 _melda_ (term of endearment eq. love, sweet, dear, darling)

 _Á tulë sinomë_ (come here)

 _Áva sorya_ (don’t worry)

 _Melda heri_ (beloved lady)

 _telyanás_ (it is finished)

 _varnatyë_ (you are safe- literally you safe- intimate you)

 _nányë sinomë_ (I am here)

 _lertamunta nahtatyë_ (nothing can hurt you)

 _Melinyel_ (I love you)  


_Ilmanya_ (my starlight)


End file.
